


Title Screen

by themistwolfkid



Category: Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles
Genre: Gen, OC driven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themistwolfkid/pseuds/themistwolfkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You who travels these roads in search of myrrh…</i><br/>What is your name?</p><p> </p><p>The party prepares for the quest ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Title Screen

_My mother always told me that the merchant booths were the busiest in those exciting days before, but then again, she was the merchant._

_Tales of how foolish Selkie boys and reckless Clavat girls tried to thieve our stands always made me laugh because my father was so fearsome.  I could hardly imagine anyone stealing a single grape from our inventory, what with his ferocious temper!  But sometimes, when he held me like I was the most delicate thing in all the world, I could see why they thought they had a shadow of a chance._

_And so, it is on these days that I’ve begun my chronicle; for every story has a beginning, and the first step is not always one into the fray of battle, but into a simple skirmish at the village market._

\---

_**New Game** _

The sun beat down on the small village of Tipa, glinting off the shining peak of the crystal standing at the center.  People swarmed the marketplace—so small it was hard to call it that—calling out prices and bargains, while the sound of exchanging coins rang from the stands.  The blacksmith shop clattered with the sound of apprentices and masters filling orders for armor and weapons galore, and the tailors were busy with mending and creating the clothes to go with them.  Even the usually quiet alchemist's shop was buzzing lightly with excitement.

It was only a few days before the caravan was to leave, after all.

"Thank you!  Come again soon!" Ore Lon shouted over the clamor.  The old Lilty stood at the counter, counting out the change for a recent customer, a charismatic grin stretched across his aging face.  He was quite wrapped up, throwing in a hearty joke as he waved the smiling Clavat woman off, and decided to busy himself with wiping the counter.  He almost didn’t notice that his pile of stripped apples was a few apples short.  Almost.

"Fal Iseul," he called, "I hope you're planning on  _paying_  for those apples."

There was a pause before he heard feet land softly on the ground.

"Man," came a voice from behind him, "I can never fool you, Grandda!"

A short girl with a smirking face stood before him, a few gil sparkling in her outstretched hand.  He laughed at her and pulled her in for a hug over the counter.  The gil clattered onto the counter, rolled, and bumped into the pile of apples.

"Of course not!" Ore Lon boomed as he gave her a strong pat on the back.  "I've been around fifty years longer than you, my girl!  And let me tell you, no trick you'll learn from the other Selkie kids is gonna pull the wool over these old eyes!"  The old Lilty grinned and ruffled the girl's sprout.  "'Course, for my dear granddaughter, I can cut the price well in half!"

Fal Iseul smiled and laughed as she batted her grandfather's gloved hand away.

"Grandda, get off!  You're goin' ta mess up my hair..."

"You should cut it," he said pointedly, putting his hand back on the counter and grabbing some of the better apples.  Gil exchanged, Fal Iseul happily accepted the bag of apples.  "I hear you complaining about it all the time."  His granddaughter made a face.

"Cut it?" she said, aghast.  "Why would I do that?  It's the only sign I've got of my Selkie heritage!  Besides," she touched her sprout tenderly, "the last time I tried to get it cut, the lady almost 'pruned' my entire sprout!"

Ore Lon chuckled.  "Wouldn't want that, now would we?" he said, warmth in his eyes.  "Fine then.  Keep yer hair and yer sprout.  You've got a hint of both Lilty and Selkie, eh?  And it chows this way."  He looked back to the counter, resuming his cleaning.  They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. 

Of course, he would have to break it.

"How's your old man doing, love?"

The old man felt his granddaughter hesitate, then heard her sigh.  It would have been much easier to leave the conversation in a pleasant dull, but the girl was leaving in a matter of days.  It was her sixteenth year, after all, and  _someone_  had to ask the big questions if his daughter wasn't able to do so for him.  He couldn't count on or ignore his son-in-law.  Not with the way he was.

"He's...better," Fal Iseul said finally.  She chewed on her thumb nail, eyes wandering, and didn't speak for a moment.  "He was already awake when I came in to see him today!  I think he was trying to hide it from me, but he was never really good at that, haha!  Ha..."  She flashed him a smile, but it dropped in the same instant it came.  She shrugged and spat a bitten shred of nail into the dirt.

"That's actually why I'm here today.  Only a few more days before I leave with the Tipa caravan, so I wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping.  Can you believe it?  I'm going to start my own adventure!"  Her smile lasted a little longer.

He couldn't believe it.  It was a hard reality to accept.  Some of the warmth in the old man's body ran cold at the mention of her leave, but Ore Lon simply polished on and hummed an affirmative response.  It was not his place to discourage a young, hopeful soul.

"...I wanted to leave Father a treat before I left.  A pie, I thought.  You know how useless he is in the kitchen!"  Fal Iseul forced another barking laugh and leaned back on the counter.  He couldn't see her face, but Ore Lon knew she was frowning.  He heard her take a steadying breath.

"You'll take care of him while I'm gone, right Grandda?"

"Of course, love."

"I mean,  _really_  take care of him?  He likes his fish a little charred, you know?  But he always burns it to charcoal when left to himself..."  Ore Lon put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to meet his eyes.  Hers were full of some aged anxiety that he knew didn't belong in a sixteen-year-old's gaze.

"Don't worry about your old man.  I'll take care of him as best as I can."  He set his rag down and leaned on the counter, offering her a warm smile.  "I'd worry more about getting yourself back here safely.  The monsters get stronger every year!"  Some fire returned to her eyes, and she leaned forward just a bit, excited to change the subject to her potential journey.

"Now don't you worry about that," she began.  "I'm so fast, nothing's gonna lay a fang on me.  Just see!"  Ore Lon let out such a strong bark of laugh that an apple on the stack almost rolled off the counter.

"A caravanner without scars?  Now  _that's_  as believable as a Yuke without a helmet!"  He patted her heartily on the back, almost sending her bowling over the counter.  His hand came to rest on her shoulders.  

"Just don't let the cockiness get to you," he said, seriousness creeping into his tone.  Their eyes met again.  No playfulness danced in the man's cornflower eyes or his granddaughter's iron parallel pair.  His hand moved to hers, and he marveled at how similar her hands were to...  

He sighed.  He was old, but he could still afford to show some emotion.  Even if he  _was_  starting to believe they were as tired and old as he was.

" _Never_ let your guard down, Fal Iseul.  Do you understand me?"  He saw her glance away before she nodded.

“Why would I?” she said with a quiet smile.  “Imagine, the death caravan comes and someone’s gotta tell ‘em, ‘Ta, she was bested by a Flan!’”  She chuckled as her native tongue slipped into the conversation, then seemed to struggle to look him in the eye again.  He saw resolution in those storm-colored eyes. 

“I’m out to bring back the water of life, Grandda.  It’d be a real shame if I came back a dead body.”

It wasn’t reassuring, not even a real promise.  She dodged giving a real answer the same way a Selkie thief dodges real work.  But if it was the best he was going to get, he wasn’t about to demand more.  He knew how the girl was with oaths.

He patted her sprout before turning her away.  “Aye, that’s true.  I have faith in you, you know?  You’ve got  _two_  strong warriors’ blood in you.  But you’re my granddaughter, love, and I’ve gotta worry!”  He hopped over the counter, wrapped her up in his short, burly arms before pushed her off down the path, walking a ways with her to the fisherman’s house.

“Leave your da to me.  I can take care of him good.  And you know Granny Vin is still rearing to go tend to a new charge.”  Fal Iseul nodded, shoulders relaxing.  They trotted for a few seconds more before Ore Lon turned back towards his stand.

“I’ll be getting back now, love,” he called.  “I think I see some grubby fingers on my cherry clusters.”  He turned to see a pair of troublesome twins pilfering the fruits.  “Oi, you thieves!  I’ll set yer tails on fire!”  He heard laughter from behind him as he sprinted on his short Lilty legs.

Pride was a small price to pay for laughter these days.  As he finished scolding the two twins, he resumed cleaning the counter.  He took to looking at the fisherman’s hut and found his face falling into a frown.  He sighed, running a gloved hand through his sprout.

“Now, Sun Jin,” he muttered.  “You’re going to lose two if you don’t watch.”  He picked at a particularly stubborn fleck of nothing that stained his old wooden counter top.  As he tended to another customer, he resumed his merchant’s grin and boomed in his friendly way.  But there was something inside him that had cooled with a deep-seated, almost forgotten worry.  He shook his head, suddenly feeling all the age he’d accumulated.

He’d drag Sun Jin out of the house himself if he had to.  Fal Iseul would not leave her father without a decent good bye.  Ore Lon would make certain of it.

\---

_My father had the indomitable spirit of a Lilty merchant.  He was tactless, yet handled deals and money with an elegance that I can only admire.  It was talent, not mere skill, though I know he spends his hours bargaining and practicing, in between the hours he spends telling us bluntly how he feels._

_And yet I’ve grown to rely on his honesty, for one can never rely on the peacekeepers, scholars, and thieves to tell you everything.  Nor a merchant!  But he has vowed to never lie to me, and I believe him._

_He has a grace with words, my father.  I can only hope that I can maneuver my lance the same way he dances through deals.  May it bring me home safely this year._


End file.
